


Old Habits

by coraxes



Series: dishonored shorts [4]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Missing Scene, Mutism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 13:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17961779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: After being held hostage for months and reuniting with a father who doesn't speak, of course Emily worries.





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> cw for mentions of canon torture.

Corvo woke to the sound of someone running toward his bed. Even half-asleep he recognized Emily’s footsteps and knew there was no reason to be afraid. He burrowed deeper into the pillows. Sleep was a luxury these days, and besides, they hadn’t gotten to play much since he brought her to the Hound Pits.

Emily slammed into the mattress, and Corvo fought to keep still. “Corvo,” she hissed into his ear. “Corvoooooo.”

He let out an unconvincing snore and cracked open his eyes. Emily stood by his bed, arms crossed. Judging by the orange light filtering into the room it was either sunrise or sunset; he’d gotten back so late last night, it could really be either.

Emily got a grip on his shoulder and tried to pull him onto his back. Corvo snored harder. “I know you’re awake! Come on, Corvo, it’s impor— _no!_ ” She shrieked with indignant laughter as Corvo finally rolled over, taking Emily with him and pinning her to the mattress. He blew a raspberry against her cheek and she shoved his face away. “You’re _scratchy._ Go shave. It’s a royal decree.” Her hair was still wet where it pressed against his arm, like she’d just had a bath—evening, then. He’d slept through the whole day.

Corvo opened his eyes and grinned at her. “See, I _knew_ you weren’t really asleep. Callista said you would be.” Emily pouted. “They don’t want me around you, here.”

He…couldn’t really argue with that. Most of the Loyalists seemed suspicious of his connection with Emily, or else didn’t like some lowly Serkonan peasant having such an influence over the new empress. Callista hadn’t given him that impression, though. Corvo thought she was just frustrated that Emily tried to abandon her lessons as soon as he was in sight. And he _had_ been sleeping.

But Emily said she had something important, so instead of pointing this out he gave her his full attention. He loosened his grip on her so she could wriggle free if she wanted to, but she stayed curled against his side.

Slow mornings in the Tower had been like this, sometimes. When Jessamine had no meetings to attend to and Emily tucked herself between them. They’d gone back and forth when Emily was small about whether she should know, what secrets she would be able to keep, how much they should hide from her—but in the end she was just too damn _cute,_ and he and Jessamine had wanted to indulge in being a family too much.

Corvo’s small mattress in the Hound Pits wouldn’t have held the three of them. It barely had room for Emily.

Emily jolted him out of his thoughts by poking the end of his nose. “I need you to do something,” she said, and stuck out her tongue.

Corvo was a professional bodyguard and father, so he automatically mimicked her.

Emily smiled with—relief? “Oh, good,” she said. “I thought—” Frowning, Corvo waited for her to continue. Emily stared as if waiting for something. He nudged her, _go on._ “The Pendletons—they said the torturer had you—actually they yelled at me, they were mean—and you don’t talk anymore. And I thought maybe your tongue had been cut out.”

Corvo had his doubts about delivering Morgan and Custis Pendleton to Slackjaw for a slower death. At that moment he took every one of them back. At a loss for any other way to respond, he shook his head.

He’d never wanted Emily to know he was tortured. The girl had enough nightmares.

“But you can still talk, right?”

Corvo nodded. Emily’s big eyes—Jessamine always said they looked like his—bored into him, and she frowned. “Then why don’t you?”

There were a lot of things he had planned to tell Emily when she was old enough to understand them. But this had gone in the _never tell her, ever,_ list, because Corvo didn’t know how to explain it to himself or Havelock or anyone else who looked askance at the pantomimes he used these days.

 _Because they wanted me to say I killed your mother, and after months in that place I didn’t know what would come out when I opened my mouth._ It seemed insufficient. He had been out of Coldridge for weeks. Why did his heart still speed up whenever he even thought about speaking?

But this was his Emily. He could take back an empire for her; he could speak for her, too.

Sweat broke out on his forehead before he managed to get out the first word. Corvo grit his teeth. “It’s—hard,” he managed lamely. Even that much had his skin feeling clammy and his arms tightening on the little girl between them.

Emily watched his face. Too observant for her own good, or his. “Okay,” she said. “Do you think you’ll get better soon?”

Thinking he was sick—she wasn’t too far off. Corvo shrugged.

“I wanted to ask you to read me a bedtime story. But if you want, you can come with me? And listen to Callista do it? She does good voices. Not as good as you, though.” Emily could read herself, of course, but she’d always had trouble falling asleep. He and Jessamine used to take turns reading to her on nights when it was especially hard.

Corvo nodded and offered her a weak smile. Emily beamed back and kissed his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> really surprised that selectively-mute-because-torture corvo hasn't caught on more, tbh! that was my first thought when i played the game.
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated.


End file.
